


Yours and Mine

by ras_elased



Category: Dawson's Creek, Thoughtcrimes
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-05
Updated: 2007-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 13:29:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ras_elased/pseuds/ras_elased
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So melagan wanted Brendan/Vincent, rimming, and a dinner table. This has none of those things. I started writing that bit, and it got away from me, so instead of cranking out that full-length fic, I decided to write this little ditty. It's a sequel to the fic I'm still writing, although it also stands alone, and it's once again heavily influenced by melagan, probably to the point where she deserves co-author credit, but she's evil, so I'm not giving it to her. ;)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Yours and Mine

**Author's Note:**

> So melagan wanted Brendan/Vincent, rimming, and a dinner table. This has none of those things. I started writing that bit, and it got away from me, so instead of cranking out that full-length fic, I decided to write this little ditty. It's a sequel to the fic I'm still writing, although it also stands alone, and it's once again heavily influenced by melagan, probably to the point where she deserves co-author credit, but she's evil, so I'm not giving it to her. ;)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Current mood:**

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accomplished  
  
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**Entry tags:**

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[fic: yours and mine](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20yours%20and%20mine), [genre: prompt/challenge response](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20prompt%2Fchallenge%20response), [genre: romance](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/genre%3A%20romance), [pairing: brendan/vincent](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3A%20brendan%2Fvincent), [rating: nc-17](http://ras-fic.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3A%20nc-17)  
  
  
  
Written as a response to a prompt from [](http://melagan.livejournal.com/profile)[**melagan**](http://melagan.livejournal.com/):

_   
**Yours and Mine (Brendan/Vincent)**   
_

Title: Yours and Mine

Author: Ras Elased

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Brendan/Vincent (Thoughtcrimes/Dawson's Creek)

Author's notes: So melagan wanted Brendan/Vincent, rimming, and a dinner table. This has none of those things. I started writing that bit, and it got away from me, so instead of cranking out that full-length fic, I decided to write this little ditty. It's a sequel to the fic I'm still writing, although it also stands alone, and it's once again heavily influenced by melagan, probably to the point where she deserves co-author credit, but she's evil, so I'm not giving it to her. ;)  
(Though seriously, hon, you have _got_ to unleash your evil genius on the world more often, for the ~~corruption~~ good of fandom.)

For those of you unfamiliar with these characters:  
A few clips of Joe Flanigan's character Vincent from Dawson's Creek: [clip 1](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=PKLFRAX8), [clip 2](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=FTFSHDD8), [clip 3](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=I183ASWJ)  
And I have to dash off to work, but I'll upload a short clip of Joe's character Brendan Dean from Thoughtcrimes when I get home this afternoon!

**ETA**: As promised, a short [clip](http://www.megaupload.com/?d=BXRBH65I) of Brendan from Thoughtcrimes!

~~~

 

Brendan stomped into his apartment, making a beeline for the bedroom. He gave Vincent a sour look as he passed where he was lounging on the couch, watching tv. The man spent more time in Brendan's apartment than his own. He knew he never should have given him that key.

 

Brendan ripped his tie over his head without bothering to unloop it and threw it on the bed, followed quickly by his jacket and shoulder holster. He headed into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. From somewhere outside Vincent sing songed, "Bad day at the office, dear?"

 

Rolling his eyes at his own reflection, Brendan opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the first bottle of painkillers he could find, desperate for anything that could help with his splitting headache. "You have no idea," he called back, agitated. He opened the bottle with a wrench of his hands that sent pills flying into the air, skittering onto the tile bathroom floor and a few even plunking into the toilet. "Oh, that's just _perfect_," he muttered to himself, dumping two more pills into his palm before speaking to Vincent across the door. "So first thing this morning, my contact on the Wallace case feeds me faulty information, which Freya doesn't even _bother_ to tell me because she's still upset over that blind date I sent her on with George from accounting, which, really, wasn't even my fault." Seriously, _Brendan_ wasn't the mind reader, so how was he supposed to know the man was such a closet pervert? He wore a _pocket protector_, for Christ sake! "Then I grabbed lunch from a hot dog vendor on the street, and the thing practically exploded all over me. I got mustard stains on my best tie, and do you know how hard it is to interview a suspect when you smell like sauerkraut?"

 

It was a rhetorical question, but Brendan listened to Vincent's quiet reply of, "I'd think that would make it easier, they'd tell you whatever you want just to get you out of the room."

 

He grimaced and tossed back the pills, swallowing a handful of water from the faucet before splashing his face and hair, all but sticking his head under the spigot. Yelling more into the sink basin than at the door, he continued, "And then, _then_ Harper calls me into his office for a little chat before I could find a clean shirt to put on, and he wanted to talk to me about my performance review. Then he dumped all of Morgan's case files on me to type up, which I couldn't do, because my computer decided today would be a good day to fry its own motherboard." He scrubbed a towel over his face and hair, then reached for the door. "And to top it all off, Terri still hasn't gotten back to me about—"

 

Brendan felt the air freeze in his lungs, and he had to grip the door jam for support as his knees suddenly turned to jelly. Vincent was sitting the bed, naked except for Brendan's tie around his neck, slowly stroking his own hard cock. When he saw Brendan's gaping expression, he gave him a wicked grin and spread his legs a little wider, twisting his wrist on the upstroke in a way that made himself shudder. "Anything I can do to help?" he asked, voice low and husky.

 

All the tension bled from Brendan's body as he approached the bed on wobbly legs, the horrors of the day melting away in the face of Vincent spread out before him. He crawled across the mattress to kneel between Vincent's thighs, smiling fondly. "You have a one-track mind, Vincent. You think sex solves everything, don't you?"

 

Vincent just raised a cocky eyebrow. "Not all sex, just sex with me. Besides," he smirked and reached out to cup the back of Brendan's neck, "you know you love it."

 

Brendan didn't feel the need to dignify that with a response. He just hooked one finger behind the knot of his tie, feeling it thread between his fingers as he slid his hand down its silky length, Vincent's chest hair tickling the backs of his knuckles. He tightened his grip on the fabric, then drew Vincent in for a slow, passionate kiss, Vincent's stubble grazing his fingertips as Brendan lifted his free hand to Vincent's jaw. When he leaned back, he saw the way Vincent's eyes went a little darker, his smile turning feral. "I'd say that's a yes," he goaded, his voice taking on the smoky edges of the sex-drenched tones he knew drove Brendan insane with desire. It really wasn't fair. Brendan's voice always seemed to go a little high and reedy whenever Vincent focused on him like this.

 

Vincent used the hand still at the back of Brendan's neck to guide him down into another kiss, this time the press of lips a little more firm and demanding. Vincent's hands slid down his back and under the waistband of his pants, tugging the hem of Brendan's shirt up so he could press his palms flat against the skin of his belly. Brendan hitched a breath into Vincent's mouth, and he could feel Vincent's answering smile against his lips, always so pleased with himself when he managed to peel away one more layer of Brendan's carefully constructed self-control. He pushed Brendan's shirt up under his armpits, blunt nails dragging over his sensitized ribs and nipples. He pulled away long enough to lift his arms and let Vincent peel both his button down shirt and t-shirt over his head in one deft motion, tossing them aside before once more leaning in for a searing meeting of lips. Brendan reached for the tie, pulling at the knot before Vincent firmly grabbed his hands by the wrists. "Hey," he chided, mouth quirking into a half grin. "Leave my tie alone."

 

Brendan choked out a disbelieving laugh. "_Your_ tie?"

 

"Yep. It's mine now." Vincent's smile took on a mischievous edge, and he gazed at Brendan through half-lidded eyes. "I like it," he said, apparently feeling the need to demonstrate by slowly stroking his palm down the silky length of fabric. "I want it," he continued, hand drifting over the flat of his belly. "So now it's mine," he finished, fingertips following the line of dark hair below his navel, stopping just short of his cock. His other hand fitted itself under Brendan's chin, lifting his gaze up from where he realized he'd been following the path of Vincent's hand with avid interest. The expression on Vincent's face made Brendan feel distinctly like a mouse being toyed with between a cat's paws. Licking his lips hungrily, Vincent added, "And I usually get what I want."

 

He pulled Brendan into another kiss, this one intense and eager, his tongue demanding entrance. He continued his passionate assault until Brendan felt the last vestiges of his restraint fall away, his body melting into Vincent's embrace. Vincent let out a playful growl and rolled Brendan onto his back, hovering over him and letting Brendan's tie dangle from his neck, the silky-smooth material dancing and skimming over Brendan's chest, the touch like light, teasing fingertips. Distantly, he heard a belt buckle being undone, but he didn't even realize what was happening until he felt Vincent's strong hand slip into the front of his pants, trailing along the dark curls to wrap around his straining cock, wrenching a gasp from his throat.

 

Vincent looked down at him, eyes dark and glinting. "I know you like this. You love having me touch you." Brendan could only swallow thickly past his ragged breaths, his head arching back into a moan as Vincent gave him a firm stroke. "Thought so," Vincent chuckled low in his throat, giving Brendan's jaw a teasing nip before sliding both hands around to the back of Brendan's waist, urging him to lift his hips so he could push his hands inside and down, slipping Brendan's pants and boxers over his ass. Settling back on his knees and giving Brendan the perfect view of Vincent's thick, hard cock bobbing between his thighs, he worked diligently to remove Brendan's pants, thumbs brushing against the sensitive skin along the insides of his legs, the backs of his knees, making him want to spread his legs wider if they weren't trapped by the damn pants around his ankles.

 

Vincent finally managed to tug Brendan free of his shoes and socks and pants, then paused, hands resting lightly on the outside of Brendan's thighs. The room was silent except for Brendan's shallow breathing, his body held motionless by the almost predatory gleam in Vincent's gaze. With only a wicked quirk of his lips as warning, Vincent pounced, trapping Brendan's mouth with his own, soft lips working against Brendan's until he was willing and pliant beneath him. Vincent's hand slid back around Brendan's cock, his hips giving a sharp jerk forward at the touch.

 

Brendan could _feel_ Vincent's smug smile against his neck, pressing soft, lewd kisses to his throat as he continued to stroke him off, rubbing a calloused thumb over the head on each upstroke, and Brendan couldn't quite hold back the shuddering whimpers Vincent was dragging out of him with each turn of his wrist. Brendan tangled his hands into Vincent's soft hair, needing something to anchor him, and unconsciously pulling Vincent's face tighter into his neck, feeling his pulse dance under Vincent's tongue before warm, wet suction and oh _god_, the surprising graze of teeth, drawing a barely restrained moan as Brendan arched up into him. He was too far gone at this point to pay more than a passing thought to whether he'd be able to hide the mark under his shirt collar, only knowing he wanted more of Vincent's mouth on him, anywhere, everywhere.

 

Vincent released the tender flesh of Brendan's neck, dragging his stubbled cheek down Brendan's chest, his kisses deceptively light after the assault on his throat. He scraped his chin over Brendan's hard nipple before flicking his tongue out to lick it gently, obviously satisfied when Brendan gasped soundlessly, sharp spikes of pleasure shooting straight to his cock. Vincent repeated the motion, this time sucking the nub into his mouth, the rough stubble contrasting with the soft, smooth glide of lips and tongue. Brendan gave a plaintive cry as Vincent increased the speed of his hand on his cock, tightening his grip just enough to keep Brendan hanging on the edge, desperately fighting to suck air into his lungs, heat pooling in his belly and the backs of his thighs, writhing and thrusting into his fist. Then Vincent gave one last, hard suck on his nipple and twisted his wrist sharply, and Brendan couldn't hold back any longer. He came explosively with a noise that started as a whimper and ended as a shout, come streaking his stomach and chest, and Vincent wasn't able to pull away before a bit spurted onto his face.

 

While Brendan shuddered through the aftershocks, Vincent grinned and used a finger to wipe the come from his cheek, then said, "That's some impressive range you've got there." Brendan was still lost in the gray post-coital haze when he felt Vincent's fingers touch his lips, opening glassy eyes to find Vincent staring down at him with naked hunger and lust and want. He traced the bead of Brendan's come along his bottom lip, watching with unblinking eyes as Brendan's tongue instinctively flicked out to wet his own lips, tasting his own come. Brendan grabbed Vincent's hand and sucked the first two fingers into his mouth, lapping away the remains of his come, eyes nearly rolling back in his head in pleasure from the solid, full feeling of Vincent's fingers in his mouth, so close yet so far from what he really wanted. He moaned, sending low vibrations up Vincent's hand and arm, the slight hitch of breath the only sign that Vincent knew what was coming next, anticipating it.

 

With a wet smack, Brendan pulled Vincent's fingers from his mouth so he could haul him down into a sloppy, loose-limbed kiss. Half shoving Vincent onto his back and half being dragged along on top of him, Brendan trailed messy, hurried kisses down his chest, shoving the tie aside in his rush to reach his target. When Brendan finally wrapped his mouth around Vincent's cock, he didn't even try to fight the blissful moan that seemed to start from his toes and work its way up his body. Brendan loved sucking Vincent's cock, the taste and heat and weight of it in his mouth, but he never let himself do it until after he'd come, when Vincent had stripped away the last vestiges of his self-control and he could finally let go. Sucking greedily up and down the shaft, lips stretched and full, he took Vincent deep, just past the edge of comfort, but loving every second.

 

From above him, he heard Vincent's low, gravelly moan, followed by a velvet-soft, "Oh, yeah, _oh_." Brendan didn't think he could suck any harder, but he sure as hell tried, wanting to break Vincent wide open, the way he'd done with Brendan. He felt Vincent's fingers thread through the short hairs at the base of his skull, the other cupping his slightly sore jaw, and Brendan sighed through his nose, allowing himself to be held. He looked up to see Vincent watching him with dark, half-glazed eyes, lips slightly parted, his tongue resting against the inside edge of his bottom lip, and this, _this_ was the moment Brendan lived for. Strong, sure hands gripped his head, Vincent's touch gentle but firm as he directed their pace, slowing Brendan's near-frantic, desperate rhythm of before. Brendan concentrated on the deep, wet suction, the movements of his tongue, he hungry passion of Vincent's eyes. He let Vincent guide his mouth where he wanted, and then the hand on the back of his head gripped a little tighter. Closing his eyes against the heat of Vincent's gaze, Brendan had barely enough time to suck in a quick breath before Vincent thrust up, burying himself nearly to the hilt, cock pulsing down Brendan's throat. Something warm uncoiled itself in Brendan's belly, and he knew that if it hadn't been for the earth-shattering orgasm of before, he would be coming on to the sheets between Vincent's thighs.

 

Vincent came with Brendan's name on his lips, which never failed to bring a tingling sensation to his chest. He was intent on letting Vincent's cock soften in his mouth, sucking gently, not yet willing to give it up, when he felt strong hands tugging at his shoulders. Vincent pulled Brendan's body flush with his own, wrapping his arms around him in a surprisingly vice-like grip, his body trembling slightly as he pressed balled up fists tight against Brendan's back, face buried into his neck. It lasted barely a second, just enough time for Brendan to register the newness of the sensation before it was gone, Vincent releasing him and settling into their usual post-sex non-cuddle. They lay on their backs, the entire lengths of their sides pressed together, though they somehow always ended up tangled around each other by morning.

 

After several seconds of harsh breathing, Brendan turned his head and caught sight of his tie still around Vincent's neck. Raising an eyebrow, he said, "So, you must _really_ want the tie."

 

Vincent chuckled quietly, low rumbles Brendan could feel where their bodies touched. "Yes, Brendan, I really want the tie."

 

Brendan grinned. "Mustard stains and all?"

 

Vincent lifted the tie to examine it, matching Brendan's grin with a wicked one of his own. "Mustard stains, come stains and all," he corrected. After a few seconds, Vincent's voice turned serious, and Brendan could count on one hand the number of times he'd used that tone. "I want it all, Brendan."

 

There was another long spell of silence as they held each other's gaze, then Brendan matched his tone. "Then it's yours."

 

They both pretended they were still talking about the tie.

 

 


End file.
